


Avianurgy

by DeathInTheOrchard



Category: Hellsing, Susume!! Seigaku Dennō Kenkyūbu
Genre: Birds and Nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-28 00:15:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14437296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathInTheOrchard/pseuds/DeathInTheOrchard
Summary: (Chief/Bishop) Makube – there is a scene in which Makube’s prototype (a priest/warlock/Catholic school teacher of some kind) arrives at the school via bird. So this is just the scene that explains how that all came about. Also, this would take place in Italy, rather than in Japan. This is also a gift story, and perhaps a bit of an inside joke. (Prototype: Azaraku Makube, from Susume!! Seigaku Dennō Kenkyūbu)





	Avianurgy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Schingiuire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schingiuire/gifts).



> Warning: the following is a work of nonsense. It is pure nonsense. Some age restrictions might apply. If you aren’t familiar with Makube’s prototype, this probably won’t make sense. But this is mostly a gift story (excuses, excuses).
> 
> Schingiuire came up with the title. [Back in January or so; this was completed in March]
> 
> Have a nice day,
> 
> death-in-the-orchard

Father Makube crept carefully out from behind an aluminum garbage can, his eyes bright, his grin wide, and his hands spread with predatory intentions.

His prey stood before him. Strands of silvery hair hung over his gaping stare, and, in a crouch, Makube ventured a step closer. And then another. One more step followed, before he was within range.

His glorious, long sought-after prey (a little, oblivious sparrow) pecked determinedly at breadcrumbs the priest had scattered about the alley, nearly an hour before. They were dry now, but the bird didn’t seem to be too picky about what it pecked at. The exceptions being when it picked up litter or tiny stones; these the creature flung away with utmost scorn. Its excitement for the breadcrumbs mounted. Suddenly, the sparrow skipped about the alley and fluttered its wings. Makube’s whole body seized with a jolt, and his gleeful grin inverted to form a petrified grimace as he stared at the bird. He stood perfectly still. He had ceased to breathe.

But the bird continued to feed. It showed that it had no intention of giving up the crumbs.

The grimace twisted into a manic grin, spreading as Makube’s eyes flashed. He lunged for the tiny creature, grappled with it, tripped over himself as he tried to adjust his grip on the fluttering flurry of frantic bird. Losing his footing at last, he toppled over the garbage can, and lay in a heap.

Lying flat on his back, Makube, besides feeling bruised and ruffled, was further annoyed by the yapping of a dog and the sliding back of a window somewhere in the alley. The window, so thrust open, instantly emitted the yowls of an Italian woman who seemed oddly upset. Makube highly doubted that the lonesome and rusting garbage can belonged to her. If it did, then he had done it no worse harm than what the woman had already wrought herself, given the garbage can’s state of neglect. Snorting at the nonsense of some people, and thereby ignoring the complaints of both beast and woman, Makube craned his neck forward to peer at his hands and what they clutched against his stomach. His grin reappeared, this time with a vibrant triumph, which manifested itself in a wriggling of spasmodic joy. This unfortunate seizure of delight, led to a second upset of the garbage can, and an exasperated return of the overly-concerned woman. The barking, meanwhile, had never ceased. 

Strolling, or perhaps some would consider it ‘skipping’, or marching with a skip in his step… regardless, moving in a forward direction with a rhythmic hum in his throat, Makube swung his arms as he propelled himself down the length of a crowded street. The few pedestrians who were attentive enough to notice, stared at the pitiful bird Makube held captive in his fist. The bird clearly showed it was not enjoying its present mode of transport, with its gaping beak and distressed, beady eyes.

Before anyone might have made up their mind to rescue the pathetic little bird, Makube rounded a sharp corner and entered a different alleyway. His humming reached some manner of crescendo, and Makube stopped at the mouth of the alley, planted his feet wide in a prideful stance, and beamed at the innumerable hopping, flapping, and exceedingly restless birds that were tied to every conceivable and available fixture, including an unopened can of Coca Cola (this anchored down a blackbird, and was not exactly a fixture). Makube swatted away various street urchins who had gathered here to watch the birds in his absence. In the case of one of these beggar children, he had specifically chosen and bribed the lad into looking after the birds, but by now Makube had forgotten which child he had promised a coin, or perhaps a loaf of bread – which he had fed to the birds… No matter. They might have all been little street urchins; they might have all been respectable child-vermin. What did he care? They were in his way, so he got them out of his way. He wanted to get a good look at his feathery hoard. The rest of the child-vermin were easily scattered, since children generally do not appreciate tendrils of (seemingly) ravenous shadows that flail menacingly at their heels. Children were ignorant and silly. What would a shadow want with a child? It’s not like shadows have any teeth to chew with, let alone a stomach to keep a properly chewed child in.

He looked to the birds and their tethers: tied to railings, window shutters, trashcan lids, lead pipes, and the lone unopened can of Coca Cola (which he seemed to recall promising to someone at some point in time…). Larger birds had been tied up amidst the population of much smaller and easily consumed birds, and these larger birds had not restrained themselves for their captor’s sake. They had given way to temptation, being, after all, mere simple beasts. One bird of prey was even now pecking apart one of its smaller brethren. But this was no matter to Makube. He shooed the hawk away, in a manner that involved pushing it aside, wrestling with it briefly, and eventually placing his body between the hawk and the bony bird corpse it desired. Without hesitating, Makube began to untie the long piece of twine he had knotted about the dead little bird’s foot – knotted, of course, when it had been alive, and had been in possession of brighter prospects. 

Heaven was most certainly a bright prospect (the brightest of bright), and there was no man alive who could argue against that fact. But birds, quite simply and factually, did not go to Heaven – they just didn’t, and it was their fault for not being born people. However, despite their not having eternal souls, Makube rather liked birds.

But there were exceptions.

With a scowl of minor annoyance, Makube twisted round to glower at the frustrated hawk that had begun to claw and peck at his rear-end. With a judgmental grunt, Makube tossed the remains of the devoured bird in the unreasonably violent hawk’s direction, and paused a moment to frown as he watched the hawk lose interest in his coat and amble over to the corpse to resume tearing into its pathetic body. …It didn’t look the least bit appetizing to Makube. But then again, he wasn’t a soul-less bird.

With a final grimace, Makube returned to the fretting bird and the end of twine he currently held, beginning to recommence his humming as he tied a heap of unsightly knots, and tested the tether (the tether being the twine). Once finished, he released the sparrow and sat back on his haunches to watch the bird attempt to fly away. But, of course, it was held back by the twine.

Chuckling, Makube stood from the dirty flagstones that paved the alleyway, and proceeded to bend forward and shove his face in the general vicinity of the futile flapping and fluttering, to smirk at the little bird. Promptly, he received a face-full of flapping and clawing bird. Batting at his assailant, Makube stumbled backwards and in the next moment found himself sprawled out on the ground (again). There had been an unpleasant crunch beneath his shoulder, which took the look of triumph (any remnants of it) from Makube’s face. He scowled just before the hawk’s assault began, and he rolled and fought to free himself of the birds he seemed to continuously run (or rather ‘roll’ and ‘toss’) into. He simply could not comprehend why they were all so upset with him. He merely intended to go to work, and do his job, which involved instructing children. No one who instructed children in a Catholic institution (especially if it was a Catholic institution) could be found at fault with any of God’s creatures.

It was God’s will that Makube instruct the children (though they be verminous). Animals could not possibly be adverse to helping a man carry out the will of God.

The shadows, drawn from the darkest corners of the alley, snaked towards the birds and coiled about them gently as individual shadowy tendrils pried off bird after bird, gradually giving the half-suffocated and thoroughly distressed priest enough room to breathe. Makube jumped up from his fetal crouch (a position he would vehemently deny ever taking) and gave the birds an indignant huff as he swept back his disheveled hair and straightened his priestly garb (without making it any tidier). With another motion of his hands, he had the tendrils of shadow swirl together, snatching each of the long pieces of twine from their anchors, thereby drawing in their corresponding birds so that the whole mass was gathered and tied together. Where the various strings of twine had been tied together, Makube’s shadows knitted through the twine to form a seat that could support a fully-grown Catholic. Makube claimed the seat as though it was his rightful throne, and he gripped the two pillars of twine between which the overhanging mass of birds had been divided.

They rose slowly as a teeming body of trilling, screeching, cawing, and endless flapping. As soon as the toes of his shoes left the flagstones, Makube’s smile split into a devilish (though still Holy) grin.

His shadows guided them towards the rooftops (so they did not flail about, hitting the walls and outcroppings), and there released Makube and his flock.

He took to the sky, with his terrified bird hoard gradually following his directions. They were off course for some time (a long time), but eventually, by luck or skill, the hoard assumed a course that would take them (and Makube) to the school.


End file.
